


i promise

by saunatonttu



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6598282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thought that Gilbert might pass before him has always been unthinkable. Is unthinkable, even now, even when the Mad Hatter stands before him with an impassive yet observant expression on his face. The face Vincent would like to hurt right now. </p><p>Ah, he would like that so…</p>
            </blockquote>





	i promise

**Author's Note:**

> Some creative liberties were taken with this. 
> 
> On a different note, fuck Rei.

There’s only ever been one thing that Vincent has wanted out of his miserable existence, other than ending it.

And that is to be able to help Gilbert.

To keep him safe. To keep him ignorant. To ease his suffering.

The thought that Gilbert might pass before him has always been unthinkable. _Is_ unthinkable, even now, even when the Mad Hatter stands before him with an impassive yet observant look on his face. The face Vincent would like to hurt right now.

Ah, he would like that so…

Why is Mad Hatter the one to deliver the news, anyway? Perhaps it is a sick act of vengeance. Vincent thinks it is.

Mad Hatter looks at him with his one eye, observes his reaction.

Vincent’s fingers twitch.

Scissors - he needs his scissors. Snip, snip, the scissors will cut.

“That can’t be true,” he says, distracted. Distressed, because even if it’s a lie, the thought of Gil dying is enough to send a shivering feeling of dread through his nerves.

 

 

 

 

 

Snip, snip, the scissors will go.

Snip, snip, off goes someone’s head.

 

 

 

 

He can’t seem to recall the exact events following the words Mad Hatter had said, but it’s little to no consequence to him.

It’s fine. It’s not the Mad Hatter’s blood that stains his fingers, even though Vincent has half the mind to destroy the man for using Gil like he has.

Had.

Gil’s dead.

 

 

 

 

Vincent opens his eyes to the ever-present dark and gloom that occupies every corner of the Nightray mansion.

(Gil got away from that place. Good. Gil doesn’t have to suffer-)

He remembers waking up once to stare at his brother, who was hesitating between leaving Vincent behind and staying with him.

Gil deserves so much more than an unfortunate brother.

Vincent wants to see him. Selfishly. Because that’s what he’s always been in this life, even when _he’s_ the reason -

Vincent gets up, smooths out his clothes, and leaves silently.

 

 

 

 

He forgets that even people at Pandora headquarters do not take well to him waltzing in at 3 am.

He wonders why. He just wants to see Gil.

They tell him to go back home. Vincent smiles politely at the word - it comes out as twisted as it always does when he’s not trying - even though that place has never truly been a home.

His fingers twitch.

_Jabberwock._

 

 

 

 

 

Gilbert’s body hasn’t been treated very well, and there are marks of people probing at the lifeless body all over Gilbert’s pale skin.

It’s sickening in its reality.

He’s still wearing his clothes, though the collar has been tugged at harshly. Vincent smiles, and the barbed wire that’s been pressed against his heart loosens a little as his fingers touch the fabric of Gilbert’s black coat. Black like the Chain Gilbert had a contract with.

Vincent wonders if Raven’s back to being locked up in the Nightrays’ cellar. Wonders if Raven feels any remorse; they’ve been tied together for a hundred or so years, after all.

(a question pops up: what if I -)

Vincent leaves the morgue after tucking a sheet over Gil. It must be cold, in those blood-soaked clothes. In that thin skin.

 

 

 

 

 

Elliot is awake when Vincent comes back, and wearing an impressive frown. Vincent smiles, waves a hand, but it’s all fake as his heart pounds and threatens to fail him.

 

_Gil is dead, Gil really is-_

_Mad Hatter wasn’t lying?_

_How can that be._

 

It’s a little belated, this kind of reaction, and Vincent doesn’t want Elliot to see it.

“You look like shit.”

Elliot always puts it so eloquently, and Vincent smiles harder. Sad, sad, like the lost boy he is on the inside. Always lost, always afraid, always in the way.

Elliot has a candlestick in his hands, five candles lit, and his face glows behind the flames, eyes squinting at Vincent accusingly like he’s done something criminal.

“It’s full moon tonight,” he says, conversational and gentle, even though his fingers yearn to hold his scissors, “is that why you can’t sleep, Elliot?”

Elliot scowls, but there’s a tentative quality that is close to apprehension. “Bullshit. You know why I can’t sleep. Same as you.”

Vincent closes his eyes, lips parting -

“Don’t wander off on your own, idiot!” Elliot’s words resume, quiet but angry, and Vincent opens his eyes, wide with astonishment. Elliot shifts, switching the stick to his other hand as he looks away from Vincent, now free hand holding to his elbow.

Vulnerable. Scared.

“Don’t worry me so much,” Elliot adds in a grumble, and pale cheeks look a little red under the light of the flames.

 _Can’t lose you too_ is what that face is saying.

But he already has; he already will.

 

 

 

 

 

Vincent acts fast when he’s angry; right now, he’s _furious_.

The Chain that killed Gil dies, so does the Chain’s user, and Vincent gets the satisfaction the brief seconds of accomplished revenge offer.

He would do _anything_ \- anything - **anything**.

But this feeling doesn’t die with the user. That’s fine. Vincent knows where this hatred is directed, and embraces it - it’s through this that he knows that Gil will be fine. Gil will live once more.

Because Vincent will make it so - he will find a way - he will erase his own existence, and Gil will live.

_Gil will live._

Hang in there, brother; Vincent will keep this promise.

 

 

 

 

 

The burial is arranged quickly, undoubtedly because of Duke Nightray. Vincent thinks, somewhat sentimentally, that it would have been nice to see brother reacting to Duke’s death.

Because that, too, will happen.

Not the smallest reason being how miserable that man had made Gilbert.

Duke is absent from the event, of course. Nothing for the not-son that he had taken in because of Vincent and kept because of Raven.

Vincent doesn’t want him there, so it’s alright. He could do with Elliot’s company, though, but the younger boy has been locked into the mansion and thus…

Vincent sighs, and prays to nonexistent gods on Elliot’s behalf as Gilbert’s coffin is laid down. He prays for his wish to come true. If it does, then Gilbert too…

The rain starts in the deathly silence as Vincent stands beside Oz Vessalius and his group, the only few people besides him that might have cared for Gilbert’s existence.

 _A few too many,_ the selfish boy Vincent whispers to himself as Gilbert returns to the Earth, too many decades early.

From dust to dust… Vincent’s fingers twitch against the long black coat he’s wearing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The same fingers dig into the soft ground approximately eleven hours later, a little past midnight, an exciting time for these things because there’ll always be someone that _might_ catch him off guard.

There’s no one today.

Ada will mourn the damage this will cause to his fingernails perhaps, but that is hardly a loss when the prize is as precious as it happens to be.

(Ada Vessalius is insignificant anyway; hardly a pebble to kick in the mess that is his life.)

Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, because he still can’t accept that what happened is real, and he digs. Chest heaving, legs trembling, hands shoveling dirt. A saw lies beside the tiny hill of dirt.

He has never cared what the rest of the Nightrays thought of him. Even Elliot’s affection - before he made Gilbert smile - had been no matter he had considered.

He still doesn’t care what the world thinks of him (pretense is a fine game when you’re always close to falling a p a r t) -

He doesn’t need anything in particular anymore -

Just please, please _let Gil live._

 

 

 

 

In the distance, a clock strikes one.

Vincent doesn’t hear it over his own breathing and the shivers that reach all the way down to his bones.

Eyes wide, the red one larger than the other, he stares at the head held between his palms, a glass smile on his lips that is not quite right.

“Gil,” he croons, the name like a relief to a thirsty traveler, “ _Gil_.”

 

 

 

 

Everything has always been - always will be - for Gilbert’s happiness. The severed head that Vincent takes with him that night serves to remind him of that.

“I will not let you down, brother,” he promises, the words fever-hot on his lips as he cradles Gilbert’s head, fingers threading through the black curls of hair.

It will be alright, he tells himself.

(Lies are often more comforting than the truth.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Raven’s voice - _you must be quite the fool._


End file.
